


Partners in (Alleged) Crime

by Tallulah_Rasa



Category: Leverage, White Collar
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallulah_Rasa/pseuds/Tallulah_Rasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's not what you know, but who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partners in (Alleged) Crime

**Author's Note:**

> It seems obvious to me that White Collar's Neal Caffrey has met (to say the least) Leverage's Sophie and Parker. And while it doesn't seem likely that Neal would have met Eliot, it's equally obvious that their being in the same room would considerably enhance the appeal of the place. So...
> 
> Originally written/posted in 2010 (S. 1-2 for White Collar, S. 2-3 for Leverage, I think), with thanks to Erin and the usual disclaimer that it's all Vickita's fault.

“I thought I was your only convict,” Neal said casually as he fiddled with the car radio.  

Peter braked at a stop sign and shot Neal a look.  “Jealous?” he asked with a smirk he didn’t bother to hide.

“Just doing a little research,” Neal said, brilliant smile just a little too wide, just a shade too late.  “For professional reasons, of course.”  

“Of course,” Peter said, as the car moved smoothly into the flow of traffic. 

When it became clear that Peter wasn’t going to say anything else, Neal dropped the act.  “Am I being replaced?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the brownstones outside the window, automatically looking for unprotected windows, vulnerable rooftops, imprudently opened doors.  “Because if I am, I—” 

“I’m not looking for a replacement,” Peter said immediately.  “But let’s face it, we could use some extra help.  Somebody’s been calling the shots with Fowler, and there might be somebody above _him_ , and you and I – we’re known quantities, Neal.  Whoever’s running this game, they’ve got our numbers.  They got to –” 

“Right,” Neal said, cutting him off. 

“You’re vulnerable,” Peter said gently.  “And so’s Mozzie, and so’s June, and I don’t know who else. So…” 

He left off Elizabeth, but Neal heard her name, just the same.  “So,” he picked up where Peter had left off.  “You need…” 

“Leverage,” Peter said, pulling into a parking spot across from a cozy-looking bar. 

His unmarked, unremarkable car blended in with all the others on the street, fading into anonymity.  Mozzie would have made it in an instant, Neal thought as they left the car and made their way across the street.  “So…you sprang this guy from jail?” he asked. 

“Actually,” Peter admitted, holding Neal outside the bar door, “someone else did.  We’re not sure who.” 

“So you have competition,” Neal said with a grin. 

“And there’s an empty cell in the federal penitentiary system,” Peter said pointedly. 

Neal lifted his hands in surrender.  “Okay.  So…what makes this guy so special?”  He looked around, and looked back at Peter.  “Not that I’m complaining, but we don’t usually go on field trips.  And this is a heck of a lot farther than my usual two-mile radius.” 

“He has a team,” Peter said.  “Con artist, hacker, retrieval specialist, thief.” 

“My kind of people,” Neal said. 

“They’re supposed to be the best,” Peter said.  Neal bristled at that, but Peter went on, regardless.  “And even _we_ can’t track them, which means they’re probably off everybody’s grid.” 

“Okay,” Neal said, and Peter opened the door.  “Do they have names?” he asked, reflexively straightening his cuffs as they stepped into the mostly quiet bar. 

“Nate Ford,” a man immediately greeted them, one hand outstretched, one holding a glass of whiskey. 

“Peter Burke,” Peter returned, shaking the offered hand.  “And this is—” 

But Nate was staring at Neal  “The Louvre, 2004?” he asked. 

“The gendarme determined that the perpetrator was just someone who looked a lot like me,” Neal said smoothly.  “I guess I have one of those faces.” 

“I take it you’ve met,” Peter said dryly. 

“Let’s just say we know each other by reputation,” Nate said.  “I have to say, Caffrey,” he went on, gesturing with his drink for emphasis, “I didn’t figure you for a government…whatever.”  He downed most of his drink and gestured them over to the bar, where he got himself a refill. 

“I didn’t figure you for a felon,” Neal said. 

Nate stared at Neal, who stared back.  Peter looked on, somewhere between impatient and bemused. 

“Well, now that the pleasantries are over…” Nate finally said.  “I read the information you sent, Agent Burke.  I think we can help.  Why don’t we sit down and—” 

“Grant!” a breathless voice called from across the bar, and Neal turned. 

“Mariana!” he exclaimed, beaming, as Sophie rushed over, sporting a slim black sheath and a dazzling smile. 

“Oh, no,” Peter said.  “No, no, no.” 

“Mariana?” Nate asked.  “Is _that_ your real…?” 

Sophie gave him a look, and then turned her attention to Neal.  “It’s Sophie, now.” 

“Neal,” Neal told her.  “Then, and now, actually.” 

“So, you two know each other,” Peter said unnecessarily. 

“We’ve crossed paths,” Sophie said, never breaking eye contact with Neal. 

“Morocco?”  Nate asked.  “Or…Istanbul? The ambassador’s safe?” 

Sophie rolled her eyes. 

“The countess had some lovely jewels,” Neal said, smiling appreciatively at Sophie. 

“And such a _wonderful_ art collection,” Sophie sighed. 

“November, 2005,” Peter told Nate, managing to sound only slightly exasperated.  “Switzerland, if I’m not mistaken.  Nine-point-six million, give or take.” 

“That was the insurance claim,” Sophie scoffed.  “It was more like three.  One-point-five, split two ways.”  She beamed.  “Or so I heard.” 

Peter looked at Neal.  Nate looked at Sophie. 

“What?” Neal and Sophie said in unison.  “It wasn’t _me_.” 

“It’s you!” came another voice from across the bar, and then Parker was suddenly there, with a length of rope in her hands and Hardison in tow.  “It’s you!  I know you!” 

Neal paled slightly.  “Parker?” 

Parker pushed her way up to Neal.  “I _told_ you you’d be fine,” she said. 

Neal turned to Sophie, and then to Peter.  “You work with…you want to work with _Parker_?” 

“Bad blood?” Hardison asked, attention bouncing from Parker to Neal and back to Parker again. 

“Alec Hardison,” Nate offered.  “Our hacker.” 

“Your _genius,_ ” Hardison clarified. 

“He’s just mad because I’m a better thief than he is,” Parker said, pointing at Neal. 

“Alleged thief,” Neal said automatically, backing toward Peter. 

“I beat him to the—” Parker began happily. 

“The details aren’t important,” Neal said hurriedly, glancing at Peter. 

“I did,” Parker insisted.  “I beat you.” 

Neal finally stopped looking in Peter’s direction, and turned his attention to Parker.  “You didn’t beat me,” he said.  “Parker, you _tasered_ me.”

“Ouch,” Hardison said. 

“Potato, po-tah-to,” Parker said with a shrug. 

“For what it’s worth, man,” Hardison interjected, “ _masterful_ job with those computer—” 

Neal shook his head, frowning, surreptitiously indicating Peter. 

“Games,” Hardison recovered.  “I’ve heard you’re a damn high scorer.” 

Peter dropped his head and groaned softly.  “I have a _very_ bad feeling about this job,” he said. 

“Tell me about it,” Nate said morosely, staring first at Sophie, who was favoring Neal with her most stunning smile, and then at the bottom of his glass. 

Eliot’s voice materialized just behind Nate.  “Does anyone realize there’s a Fed car outside the—”  He looked at Peter, and then at Nate.  “Apparently you do.” 

“Eliot Spencer,” Nate said to Peter, pointing at Eliot with his glass. 

“And do _you_ know Neal, too?” Peter asked wearily. 

Eliot turned then and looked at Neal, who smiled. 

Eliot stared. 

Neal’s smile didn’t fade, but he did edge a little closer to Peter. 

“I heard you…” Eliot started, and then he started again.  “I didn’t know you…” 

“Is there a problem…?” Nate and Peter asked together, Peter with some concern, Nate with the air of someone already planning how to get the bloodstains off the floor. 

Eliot turned to them.  “This guy…” he started, and then he turned back to Neal.  “I thought you didn’t make it,” he said slowly. “If I had known –”

“He belongs to the F.B.I.,” Peter said quickly.  “If you break him, there’s going to be a hell of a lot of paperwork.” 

Eliot gave him a look.  “I don’t want to _break_ him.” 

“Well, that’s good,” Sophie said. 

“But the last time I saw him, I did promise to …hurt him a little.” 

“Not that I don’t understand the feeling,” Peter said, “but the F.B.I. frowns on—” 

But Eliot had turned back to Neal. “You still like Indian food?  I make a mean Vindaloo curry.  Just _smelling_ it will make your eyes water.”

“Wait.  You’re going to _feed_ the dude?” Hardison asked. 

“It’s the least I can do.  The man saved my life.” 

“I just created a little distraction,” Neal said modestly. 

Nate looked at Peter, who shrugged.  “The F.B.I. didn’t know _anything_ about this.” 

Nate frowned at Eliot.  “You two worked together?” 

“I thought you never worked with partners before us,” Parker said, pouting. 

“We didn’t…It wasn’t like that,” Eliot said.  “I was supposed to retrieve a…thing…from some people who’d stolen it from…some other people.”

Peter raised his eyebrows at Neal.  

“Don’t look at me,” Neal said.  “I just happened to be in the area.” 

Parker snorted, but Sophie shushed her.  “And…?” she asked. 

“The usual,” Eliot said.  “It was a set-up.  There were some armed guys, I had to get out quick, blah, blah, blah.” 

Everyone but Neal stared at him. 

“There were a _lot_ of armed guys, okay?” Eliot added.  “I needed a little help getting out.” 

“Really.  I just happened to be in the area,” Neal repeated for Peter’s benefit. 

Parker had to kick Hardison to get him to close his mouth and stop staring. 

“And honestly, he did most of the work,” Neal said.  “Especially getting us over the border.” 

“The _border_ …?” Peter asked weakly. 

“I have to admit, I had some doubts about your plan,” Neal said to Eliot. “But it worked, so…” 

Eliot frowned.  “I didn’t hear you asking any questions _then._ ” 

“I was worried you saw it on ‘MacGyver,’ ” Neal admitted.  “But I couldn’t come up with a better idea, and you seemed pretty confident.  I figured you’d done it before.” 

“Not…exactly,” Eliot said.  “But the year before, I dated an aeronautical engineer.” 

“Huh,” Neal said.  “But, how—” 

“And an artist.” 

“But that wouldn’t—” 

“She made metal sculptures,” Eliot explained, indicating with his hands _so big_ and _so wide._

“Ah,” Neal said, but he continued looking inquiringly in Eliot’s direction. 

“And a taxidermist,” Eliot finally said. 

“That…explains a lot,” Neal said. 

“Okay, that’s not in _any_ of your files,” Hardison said to Eliot. 

“Not _now_ ,” Neal said, almost to himself, and Hardison’s eyes widened. 

“This,” Sophie said, “is going to be fun.” 

“This is going to be a disaster,” Peter said at the same time. 

“We’re doing a job together?” Parker piped up.  “What are we doing?”

“Catching bad guys,” Neal told her. 

“Oh,” Parker said, and then she brightened.  “Well, can we steal stuff, too?” 

“A disaster,” Peter repeated. 

“I’ll drink to that,” Nate said, and he did. 

“Well, it seems to _me_ ,” Sophie said, hooking her arm through Neal’s. “that this could work out…” 

“Well?” Neal suggested, a touch of laughter in his voice. 

“ _Quite_ well,” Sophie said. 

Hardison mumbled something. 

“What?”  Eliot demanded. 

Hardison planted his feet.  “We look out for your sorry ass on a regular basis.” 

Eliot turned and gave him a truly frightening glare.  “You look out for my _what_?” 

Hardison, however, had built up an immunity. “I’m saying, are we or are we not a _team_?” 

“Are we a – what the hell, Hardison?” 

“I think Hardison likes curry,” Parker offered.  “And _I_ like curry.  And Soph--” 

“Fine!” Eliot growled, rolling his eyes. “I’ll cook for all of you.  Okay?” 

“Goody!” Parker said. 

“Fair’s fair,” Hardison said.  “That’s all I’m saying.” 

Sophie gave them all a look and shook her head. 

“Everybody happy now?” Eliot asked with exaggerated politeness. 

“I’m good,” Neal said cheerfully, still firmly arm-in-arm with Sophie. 

“I’m thrilled,” Peter deadpanned.  “Just… thrilled.”        

But Eliot was already shepherding Neal, Sophie and Parker toward the stairs, Hardison trailing them.  “Nate?” he called over his shoulder.  “We’ll be upstairs in your kitchen.” 

Nate and Peter watched them go.  Hardison’s voice drifted over as they left the bar, “A taxidermist?  Seriously?” followed by Parker’s anxious, “There _is_ going to be stealing, right?” 

Peter looked at Nate. 

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Peter asked. 

“You don’t already?” Nate answered.  “But on the bright side…” 

“There’s a bright side?” 

“Well,” Nate observed, “Eliot _does_ make a hell of a curry.” 

END

 


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